Blocked-up drains, broken panes,
The ballcock needs a washer.
Magnolia paint, very quaint
No; red, or something posher.
Big and bold death watch beetles,
Woodworms by the score.
Aspergillus Niger,
Fungus on your door.
Molluscs in your garden,
As well as on your mat.
Finding all your seedlings
Dug up by next door's cat.
Wet rot, dry rot, peeling paint,
Carpet needs replacing.
Where are those ants all comming from?
It's hard to do the tracing.
Mortgage payments, council tax,
Insurance for the building.
Very expensive chandiliers.
Do your taps need gilding?
Paper hanging all day long.
Slap that paste on bolder!
If you can cope with all of that,
Then you'r a fine householder.
Few and far, far and few
Are the towns where the Wrinklies thrive.
Their noses are red and their hearts are gold
And they spend all day on the skive.
They spend all day on the skive, they do
And are thankful they're still alive.
But should they draw close to the shore
Where councillors have their sway.
Or ever pace within the space
Where politicians play.
They'd have the gall to chide them all
And send them on their way.
And should they stand in that false land
Where insurance brokers ply.
Or should they reach that far flung beach
When holiday reps. are nigh.
They'll not desist to rightly list
How hard they've been done by.
But should they repair to classrooms rare
Where lecturers expound.
Or should they stray to workshops grey
Where computer buffs are found.
They'll live and thrive and stay alive
And spread their joys around.
The Wrinklies walked on one by one
One more rhyne to cross
Hoping for a bit of sun
One more rhyne to cross.
One more rhyne, and that's the rhyne of Bleadon
One more rhyne, there's one more rhyne to cross.
The Wrinklies walked on two by two
One more rhyne to cross
Hoping for a sky of blue
One more rhyne to cross.
The Wrinklies walked on three by three
One more rhyne to cross
Trying to get their ancles free
One more rhyne to cross.
The Wrinklies walked on four by four
One more rhyne to cross
Pressing on through swamps galore
One more rhyne to cross.
The Wrinklies walked on five by five
One more rhyne to cross
They were glad to be still alive
One more rhyne to cross.
The Wrinklies walked on six by six
One more rhyne to cross
They though they were crossing the river Styx
One more rhyne to cross.
The Wrinklies walked on seven by seven
One more rhyne to cross
The car park would seem just like heaven
One more rhyne to cross.
The Wrinklies walked on eight by eaght
One more rhyne to cross
They'd soon be over the final gate
One more rhyne to cross.
The Wrinklies walked on nine by nine
One more rhyne to cross
That's all there were - but they were fine
One more rhyne to cross.
The Wrinklies walked on ten by ten
One more rhyne to cross
In two week's time they'd do it again
One more rhyne to cross.
Monday's Pill is hard to face,
Tuesday's Pill, a sheer disgrace.
Wednesday's Pill will cause you woe,
Thursday's Pill will make you "go".
Friday's Pill is unforgiving,
Saturday's Pill works bowels for a living.
The Pill that on Christmas Day is taken
Will play havoc with your eggs and bacon.
